


Sunday's Child

by frogfarm



Series: Buffy Etcetera: (Shorts) By Request [17]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Community: femslash_minis, F/F, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Sunday knows this campus isn't big enough for the two of them.Post-S3, pre-S4.





	Sunday's Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snogged/gifts).



> For Round 51 of femslash_minis.
> 
> Requested: Villainy, unicorns, Harmony winning. The villainy is mild and incidental, the unicorns noted in passing, and I leave it to you to decide whether Harmony won. Maybe not by Illyria's definition, but at the very least, she survived. And if Sunday did in fact have a role, even a small one, in creating Harmony as a villain... *shudder*

> _...and the child born on the Sabbath day  
>  Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay._

 

The first thing, obviously, was to get yourself some minions. Any idiot knew that. Lying about your age to go clubbing had been good practice, but now it only took a vague wave of the hand and a mysterious knowing glance, let their runaway imaginations do the work. And the best part? She'd never have to go the other way, pretending she was younger. It always creeped her out when old people did that.

Of course it was equally important to know one's place, just like high school. You had to maintain your position in the pecking order to ensure you weren't the one who got pecked to pieces.

"I know! We can set up a fake sorority and lure frosh right to our door!"

"Damn." She regards the enthused interloper with grudging respect. "That's brilliant."

"And we can make them do all those games, like the one with the cup and the egg..."

"I take that back." Sunday rolls her eyes and looks to the sky, idly wondering why in Hell she still looks to the Lord in times of crisis. "You're a moron."

"But --"

"Don't speak."

The newcomer has the good grace to look hurt and lapse into silence. Sunday remains watchful for further attempts at insurrection. Never trust anyone blonder than you.

"Taking over the school might sound like fun," she continues. "But think about it. If enough kids stop coming here, what are we going to eat?"

The new girl raises her hand. Sunday ignores her.

"No, we stick to the original plan. The smart plan -- _my_ plan, I might add. As long as we don't make any waves, and nobody gets any bright ideas about apocalypse -- yes, I'm looking at you, Jorge -- this campus is going to keep right on being our personal cafeteria, with a lifetime all-you-can-eat pass."

The girl's still waving her hand. Sunday sighs out loud.

"Get out. No -- the rest of you."

They've been around just long enough to obey orders. The newcomer looks around at the now-empty room. Sunday steps up, looming over her chair.

"This is my turf, townie."

"Nuh-uh!" The childish retort is pure reflex, but there's no denying the spunk. Sunday raises one eyebrow.

"You wanna wrestle?"

"I don't know." The newbie looks confused. "Can I be a college lesbian if I'm not in college?"

Actually, Sunday hadn't thought about shutting her up *that* way, until now.

But damned if she'll admit it.

By the time she notices the unicorn panties, it's too late to back out.

 

  


* * *

  


 

It turns out sexual conquest is an unreliable method of keeping minions in line. While the sex is passable -- better than either of her old boyfriends, though she'd stake herself before ever admitting to such a small number -- the generation gap alone is a source of much angst to Sunday's fundamentally eighties mindset. Add in the social friction caused by Harmony's presence, and within days her little group is threatening to come apart at the seams. Clearly, something must be done.

"What do you _mean_ you're kicking me out? I did that thing with my tongue and everything!"

"It's not like that --" In desperation, Sunday grabs onto the half-remembered phrase _reverse psychology_. "The others are jealous of your, uh...favored position. And this campus just isn't big enough for two queen bees like us. You need your own field, to, uh...blossom in."

"Really?" The forlorn look turns hopeful.

"Really. You get yourself a good territory, I guarantee you'll own it inside of a week." Or get dusted trying, which from Sunday's perspective was an equally uplifting possibility. "Better yet? Get a guy to do all the heavy lifting. The dumber the better."

Harmony's brow furrows in furious thought. "Aren't us sisters supposed to be doing it for ourselves?"

"Trust me, honey, you will be." Sunday gives her a sly smile. "A real villain takes all the credit."


End file.
